Deceptiqueen
by Medalis
Summary: A series of one-shots, drabbles, and stories centered on Starscream's Femme Clone, Slipstream, and her interactions with other characters. LOLs and D'Awwwws all around. :TFA: :Slipstream/Megatron: :Rated for themes: Really long chapter added!
1. 1

**(Slipstream/Megatron) (Rating; T, T+)**

_(The Cavern Base, Lake Erie, Earth)_

Whoever said that Decepticon Warlords don't get confused, don't have emotions, or don't have things other than conquest on their mind was a complete and total idiot.

Megatron heaved a sigh through his vents, shaking his head. He leaned back in his comfy throne, sifting his arms so they rested against the armrest. Red optics glanced at a small stack of Data-Pads on a table near his throne, along with a goblet waiting to be filled with oil.

His servos tapped against the cold but comfortable throne, as his processor wandered, optics offlining. A certain femme soon came to mind, as she always did. Soft-looking metal skin, a curvy body type that would look _so_ perfect writhing under him, sharp wings, beautiful faceplates usually accented by an enticing and flirty smirk, and long shapely legs… almost on cue, his mutant spark began to pulse faster, beating lustfully in his spark chamber.

He sighed again, rubbing his helm, reaching up to his audio and tapping it. He quickly opened a comm. link with his most loyal charge; Shockwave.

:: _Shockwave. _:: (Megatron)

There was a soft clatter of metal and glass, before the decidedly noble-born vocal tracks of the shape-shifter replied.

:: _Yes, my lord? _:: (Shockwave)

:: _Send Slipstream, the Femme Seeker, to my throne room immediately. _:: (Megatron)

:: _Yes, my liege. May I ask what you need her for? _:: (Shockwave)

:: _No, you may not. _:: (Megatron)

:: _As you wish, my lord. _:: (Shockwave)

He cut the comm. link, closing his optics and leaning father back into his throne.

* * *

Slipstream, when Shockwave had suddenly walked into her shared quarters (with her brothers and idiot of a creator), would have been okay with blasting the shape-shifter's head off. Thundercracker and Ramjet had been annoying her about the size of her aft, and really, she didn't need another mech staring at her… particularly one she often had no idea _where _he was staring.

"Slipstream." He looked down at her, shifting slightly. Well, he _was _tall.

"What do you want, one eye?" she glared up at him, ignoring the looks her brothers were giving her; aka making sure they didn't taunt Skywarp when she was talking with someone else.

Shockwave's single optic narrowed in the slightest. "Lord Megatron wishes to see you in the Throne Room."

"Really, now?" she raised an optic ridge, shifting on her pedes. "What for?"

"He did not say." The tall mech said, turning to leave the Seeker Quarters. "Now please; come with me."

He left the room, followed by the Seeker femme, who quickly glared at her siblings in a 'hurt Skywarp when I'm out and I'll rip your interfacing units out'.

She noticed the shape-shifter's single optic occasionally drifting to her, focusing on her swaying hips or chestplates, and once in a while on her aft. Her face blushed slightly, as she tried to walk straight with the swaying action.

"Don't make me kick you in the crotchplate, one eye." She hissed at him when she failed at fixing her posture, baring small fangs at him. "'Sides, I thought your type was small and yellow."

Shockwave stiffened, his optic narrowed and glaring at her, wisely staying silent, and wisely looking away. She smirked up at him, wingtips twitching triumphantly.

A few minutes passed before Shockwave finally led her to the large doors of the Decepticon's Throne Room. He opened the door, standing out of her way as she waltzed inside. He rolled his optic at her attitude, closing the door and walking back to his station.

Meanwhile, Slipstream watched the door close with a hint of nervousness in her Spark-Shard. She had heard stories of mechs and femmes left alone with the Lord of the Decepticons, them becoming seduced by the Chaarian, and later being disposed of… in the form of the warlord's feared fusion-cannon.

Megatron was sitting on his throne, leaning back. One of his hands was resting on an armrest, the other against one of his swords. His optics were closed, and it seemed that he was asleep… and she was alone with him.

Her Spark-Shard felt like it was going to burst out of her chestplates. She was _alone _with _him_… "You wanted to see me… sir?"

His optics opened, and turned to look at her. Deep maroon-red burned into slightly-pinker red. "Hm? Oh yes, I do."

"Cyclonus." Slipstream nearly jumped as the shadows next to the throne moved, revealing a dark purple Seeker. Megatron didn't move, past a slight turn of his optics. "Leave us. I will call you when needed."

Cyclonus bowed, before walking stiffly past the femme Seeker.

"He likes you. Be on your toes." She heard a dark, vaguely familiar voice mutter, and caught the deep red optics of Cyclonus. She blinked in response, turning to watch the tall Seeker leave the room.

Now she _really_ was alone with him.

Oh Primus, she was slagged. Alone with the Seducer...

He turned his optics back to her, simply staring with those beautifully frightening red screens. She stood still, repressing, barely, her body's subconscious urge to shiver. His gaze was piercing, almost like everything about her was laid out before him, waiting for him to snag her like she was his prey.

Slipstream didn't fear much; only Megatron (and the basic fear of falling that all Seekers were sparked with), but he was the also only being she _respected_. Then again, who couldn't respect him? He was fearsome, intelligent, deadly, handsome, and… _perfect_. Everything she strived to be, and wanted in a mech. Pit, she wouldn't mind being with the Decepticon Warlord… well, other than the whole 'using' thing. She _hated _people using her.

He apparently finished his scanning, as he leaned back into his throne and leaned on his fist.

"Pray tell, what part of Starscream are you, my dear?"

She glared at him. "None of your business… sir."

"Hmmm… I believe it is." He countered, an enticing smile spreading slowly on his pale faceplates. She shivered; that smile was unbelievably _sexy. _His deep, husky, eternally calm voice wasn't helping matters either… Primus, at this rate, her fear would most likely vanish and be replaced by complete and total desire. "After all, I _am_ your leader. You said it yourself, once."

She was quiet, before she responded to his original question. "I am unsure as to what part of Starscream I am. I truly cannot tell, sir."

He was silent, for a few seconds, simply looking the sad look on her faceplates. She didn't hear him get off his throne, and walk towards her. She did, however, feel him lift her faceplates to lock optics with him.

His optics glowed deep maroon, meshing with the light of her own pinkish-red optics. That small, enticing smile gently pulled at his lips, making her Spark-Shard beat faster.

"I too did not know who I was, at one time." He said, in a barely audible whisper. "How… strangely coincidental."

She swallowed a lump in her throat, hands shaking as he leaned closer to her face. His hands grasped her upper arms, holding her still, causing her optics to widen.

'_What… what is he going to do?'_

"Mega… Megatron… sir? What are you doing?"

His lips were barely a breath away, optics staring into her's. "Do not question it, femme… feel honored by it."

He pressed his lips against her's, glossa licking at her closed lips, trying to get her to open her mouth. She tried to squirm away, trying to pull out of his strong grasp. He tightened his grip, pressing against her more, prying her lips open, and plunged his glossa inside her mouth.

She felt the slick intruder lapping at the roof of her mouth, before she suddenly relaxed in his grip, optics dimming. One of his hands had moved to her left wing, stroking the super-sensitive appendage, effectively making the fear fade from mind, and be replaced by mounting desire. She leaned into his touch, glossa shyly pressing against his larger one.

He let go of her other arm, placing the hand onto her hourglass-like hip, and curled his glossa around her's. She let out a muffled moan, arching against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. His optics opened to simple slits, staring at her faceplates.

Said faceplates were tinged purple around her cheekplates, pinkish-red optics were nearly offline and darkened to a deep magenta, glossa tangling with his desperately.

He pushed her glossa away, mapping out her warm mouth, hand stroking her wing edge again. She surrendered to him, arching her thin body, letting out a muffled whimper.

Slowly, he pulled away, a string of coolant still connecting their glossa. Slipstream panted, arching into him, wanting_ more_…

"Mega… Megatron…" she breathed, looking up at his pale, handsome faceplates. "_Please_…"

He rubbed her hip with his large black hand, servos molding her soft metal skin, and nuzzled her thin neck. Her helm fell back, allowing him more room.

"Yes, my dear Slipstream?" he whispered, huskily, into her audio. She bit her lip to stifle a moan, clawed servos digging into his broad back as he licked her neck, warm coolant spreading across her neck-cover.

"I… I… _ohhh!_"

He smirked, and groped the wires in her back connected to her wings again. She cried out, panting, her face blushing a deeper purple.

A little voice in the back of her cortex was whispering to her, saying '_Don't do it! He's just going to use you! Stop!_' Sadly, those thoughts were drowned out by '_Oh Primus, take me Megatron! Make me yours! I want you!_'

"_Ahh_…" she rubbed his back, dipping into the wells where his swords were normally hidden. He let out a rumbling purr, licking her neck again.

"Hmmmm… you seem warm, my dear. Is something the matter?" his voice, deep and husky as it was, was steady. Baffling. Completely _baffling_.

"I… I… you… _oohhh_…"

Megatron smiled at her, before he picked her up bridal style, and carried her out of the room towards his quarters.

* * *

When Slipstream's systems came back online from the multiple-processor-blowing-overloads she had just experienced, she nearly bolted upright in shock.

Megatron, lying next to her with his arms wrapped around her waist and chest, shifted. His head was buried in her neck, nasal ridge pressed against her chin. His large arms stopped her from leaping from the berth and hiding under a rock in mortification.

She managed to hide her face with her hands, blushing deeply. Oh dear Primus, she had just interfaced with the Supreme Lord of the Decepticon Army! He… he had _seduced _her! Oh slag, she was offline scrap metal!

That nagging little voice in the back of her cortex started talking again; '_Run! He's gonna wake up and kill you!_' Like last time, there was another voice, this one saying, almost humorously, '_Wow. That was… wow._'

She leaned back into his embrace, letting out a sigh through her vents, figuring there was no chance of getting away. Her hands lifted, sharp servos gently grazing over Megatron's handsome faceplates. She had to admit, he certainly was very attractive.

Her servos brushed over his slightly parted lips, feeling the outtakes from his inner vents. The servo moved to trace the black tattoos on his near-white faceplates, until she noticed his mouthplates were lifted at the corners, like…

"You slagger, you've been awake this whole time."

Megatron's optic screens lit up, his bright red optics staring almost _smugly _at her. His lips drew into a small smirk, as he pulled her closer to him. "And if I was…?"

She rolled over onto her other side, mindful of her wings, and glared at the wall. His hands gently rubbed her stomach, his head nuzzling against the back of her neck.

"Come now, why so sensitive…?" he asked, almost as if he was simply curious… she curled into a fetal position, pulling his hands off her body.

"Because you're just going to end up using me, and then offline me when you're finished." Slipstream grumbled, crossing her arms over her legs and pouting.

Megatron sat up a little, looked over her helm, and stared at her faceplates. He began to chuckle, and laid back down. "You are acting like a sparkling that did not get it's toy, my dear. It is quite adorable."

"_Hmph_." She blushed, pouting more. "Your plan isn't gonna work on me, slagger."

"Plan? What 'plan'?" she glanced over her shoulder at the warlord, catching a glimpse of his confused faceplates. "I can assure you, my dear, I have no 'plan'… oh. I see what you mean."

His arms wrapped around her again, pulling her back against his large frame. "My dear Slipstream, just because I have the nickname 'Seducer' amongst my army, does not mean I have no interest in a… what is the word? Oh yes; 'normal' relationship. To be truthful, you _fascinate _me."

"I don't believe you."

Silence, then a sigh. "My dear… are you aware of how many mechs and femmes your _creator_ has seduced? The number is far greater than my… victims."

"Is _that _what you're calling them?" she frowned, trying to squirm away from his strong arms. She felt his lips, pressed against her neck, curl into a smirk.

"That is what they are, my dear."

"Am _I _one of your 'victims'?"

He pressed a kiss to her neck, smirking still. "You can be, if you wish, my dear."

Slipstream was silent, before she managed to get the warlord's arms off of her. She sat on the berth, legs and arms crossed, pouting.

"I'll think about it… sir."

Megatron smirked, watching her get of the berth and walk away… though, there was something of a limp in her stride.

* * *

_Thanks to __**Karan Seraph**__, most of the errors that were bugging me about this drabble have been fixed! _

_If you have a particular idea or prompt, feel free to suggest it! That includes to you people who don't have accounts or are too lazy to; I allow anonymous reviews. :D_


	2. 2

**1. Cuddle before Bed (Slipstream/Megatron) (Rating; K+)**

He lay awake on his berth, simply staring at the ceiling. It was far past midnight, and he needed to recharge. But the bliss of sleep-mode never came, leaving him there, simply staring up at the rocky ceiling.

Feminine claws gently crawled up his chassis, stopping just over the insignia on his chestplates. He felt a thin winged body draw closer, and the hand moved to his cheek.

"Can't recharge?" a soft voice asked him, and he turned his faceplates to thin pointed ones. Two pairs of red optics met, as he craned his neck to get his faceplates next to her's.

That was all the answer she needed. She curled up next to him, pulling the black silk nano-cloth blankets up further as he moved onto his side. He pressed his lips against her forehead, and nuzzled her helm. She leaned into his touch, moving her claws down to the insignia on his chestplates again, gently pressing.

She felt his strong arms wrap around her, pressing her into his larger body. He nuzzled his helm into her neck, his hands petting her wings. She smiled, and curled into him, placing a hand on one of his strong arms.

She soon felt his intakes slow, and his systems shut off in preparation for sleep-mode. She smiled, hands drifting to toy with the edges of his helmet.

Who knew the feared Decepticon Warlord was one who needed to cuddle before he fell into recharge?

**2. The Seducer is Seduced (Slipstream/Megatron) (Rating; T, T+)**

"Am I truly the Seducer?"

Slipstream blinked, jolting out of her blissful daze when he spoke to her. She sluggishly looked up, pushing against his coolant-soaked chest and meeting his dark optics.

"Come again?" she asked, leaning against him, since she was having trouble moving and keeping her balance. He smiled softly at her, something she only saw during moments like this, after they were one for mere yet blissful seconds.

"You, long ago, called me the Seducer." He said, voice low and husky. His hand gently moved upward to her wings, stroking them lovingly. "Am I still the Seducer, when you have seduced me instead?"

She smiled, understanding. She leaned against his chest more, nuzzling against his pale tattooed faceplates.

"Let's say we seduced each-other." She regarded him with darkened red optics, pressing her hips against his.

"That works."

"Good." With that, she pressed her lips against his.

**3. Book before Bed (Slipstream and Skywarp, big sister/little brother) (Rating; K, K+)**

"And the Princess and her Prince lived happily ever after." Slipstream finished, laying the Data-Pad down on the berth. Part of her felt disgusted to have read something so childish and _human_, but the peaceful and vaguely happy faceplates of Skywarp were enough to smash those feelings.

She gently stroked Skywarp's helm, smiling at her younger brother. The little Seeker always had such trouble getting to sleep… reading a bedtime story to him never bothered her, well, except when Megatron gave her _that_ look. But that was a different story altogether.

Skywarp shifted, hugging a giant-sized teddy bear to his chest, wings twitching. Slipstream leaned in, gently pressing a kiss to the youngest Seeker's helm, before getting up and grabbing the Data-Pad. She slid it into a bookshelf, before leaving the Seeker's shared quarters.

**4. Kitty (Kitten Ravage, Slipstream/Megatron) (Rating; K)**

"Awwww, who's a good kitty, who's a good kitty?"

Ravage raised one large black ear, staring at the femme seeker in confusion. She was kneeling slightly, hands on her knee joints, and staring at him with a weird expression.

"Aren't you a _pretty_ kitty?" she cooed, petting the top of the mechanical panther's head. He leaned into the petting, _oh Primus it felt good_, and let out a rumbling purr. She kneeled down closer to the ground, and scratched behind his ear.

: _Ooooh, that's the spot… _:

He purred, rubbing his sleek black metal head against the clawed hand. She petted his sleek back, rubbing his neck and joints.

"Mreoowww…" : _I like you, femme._ :

The femme smiled, picking him up. Due to his age, the panther was more of a kitten-sized panther, so the femme could easily pick him up, and carry him someplace.

Which is exactly what she did. She continued petting and scratching him, all the while walking down the hall towards… somewhere. Ravage didn't really care at the moment. Just as long as she continued petting him.

He felt the femme lay him on a soft berth, and hug him. "Awwww, you're so _soft_! Who's a soft kitty? That's right; Ravage is a soft kitty!"

There was the sound of a door opening, and someone stepping in, but the kitten-panther had long since stopped paying attention. The femme had given him a ball of yarn. That yarn was_ going down. _

"My dear… why is Ravage in our berth?" If he was paying attention, Ravage would have noticed that the deep vocal track that spoke was of the Supreme Commander, and would have acted accordingly.

"Oh stop whining, there's still room for you, Megsy."

A large frame sat down on the berth across from the femme and the kitten-panther, and he snapped out of his _yarn-ball-must-play-with_ daze.

"Mreeoow!" : _Lord Megatron! _: the panther tried to salute like Lazerbeak and the others did, but he fell flat on his face with a '_merrow!_'

"Oh my gosh, that was _adorable!_"

Lord Megatron looked at the femme, an optic ridge raised as she cuddled the kitten.

"You have a soft spot for cats."

"Aww, is the Decepticon Supreme Commander _jealous_?"

"Over a _cat_?"

The femme stuck her tongue out, petting Ravage's head again.

: _Oh dear yarn balls in the sky, what have I gotten myself into? _: were Ravage's only thoughts, as he noticed the slightly murderous look his leader was giving him.


	3. 3

**Left Without a Word (Slipstream & Cyclonus) (K-K+)**

The three femmes quickly got into their battle positions; Slipstream was flying in the air with null rays flashing, Strika was driving forward in her alt-mode and knocking Autobots off their pedes, and Nightbird was quickly swerving in and out of battle while slicing unlucky enemies to scrap. Despite Slipstream and Nightbird's intense rivalry, when working together with Strika, the three could practically level an entire battlefield on their own.

Which was pretty much what they were doing.

Well, except some Autobot managed to get a lucky shot in, knocking out part of Strika's treds. Slipstream was distracted for a split second, but that was long enough. Another Autobot aimed at her heel boosters, knocking her out of the sky.

The wind rushed past her, but not in the good way. Fear gripped her, along with a large red box in her HUD warning her about how quickly the ground was approaching, and one that said her boosters were out.

The only thing going through her processor?

_**AAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH!**_

"Mmph!" she crashed into something, and prepared to see pieces of herself scattered on the ground. Instead, she found herself being held bridal-style by a large, dark creature.

"… Cyclonus?"

The quiet dark purple Seeker stared at her, red optics with green slits burning into her own optics. He carefully set her down, tensing slightly when she wobbled on her unsteady pedes. She looked up at him, optics curious.

"You saved me… why?"

He was silent, staring down at her, before activating his heel boosters and jetting back into battle. Slipstream watched him leave in confusion, before she turned to get out of the line of fire.

**The Helmet, Part 1 **

"Does that thing come off?"

Megatron glanced upward from his data-pad, staring at his mate. She was laying on the birth, laying on her abdomen, and staring at him with a completely innocent gaze. He had long since learned not to trust 'innocent gazes'. Granted, that was one of the most blissful nights he had had with her, but whatever.

"Does what thing come off, my dear?" he asked, returning his gaze to his data-pad.

"Your helm. It always looked like it could come off. Can it?" he raised an optic ridge at her innocent tone. Something was up.

"All helms are designed to come off, my dear." He said, trying to focus more of his attention onto the data-pad. "We have removed your helm before, remember? My own helm just… appears to be looser."

He didn't look up at her, but something told him she rolled her optics at him. "Uh-huh. Then _why _do I see _yellow_ under there?"

He jumped, looking up at her in alarm. One hand immediately went to his helm, shifting it. "Wh-what?"

"Oh, nevermind, it's gone." She smirked at him, swinging her feet in a way that he noticed her aft. Primus, was she trying to arouse him?

She smiled at him, rolling onto her back and stretching.

Curse her. And curse his stupid cooling fans.

"So… show me what's under there?" she smiled at him, optics slanted and dark. He immediately snapped out of his arousal, and glared at her, getting up and walking to his side of the berth.

He sat down, frowning at the wall. She crawled over to him, wrapping her arms around him. He shrugged her off, pushing her away gently before laying down on his back. His backstruts ached and creaked, but he said nothing.

Slipstream looked at him in concern. "Do you want me to give you a massage? You look like you need it."

He opened one optic, glaring at her before rolling onto his side.

Was he giving her the cold shoulder?

She pouted, before laying down herself, her wings shifting to allow her onto her side. "Fine then. Be that way."

The lights, dim since neither occupant of the room liked it being bright, shut off completely.

For some reason, she felt cold. Maybe she had grown too used to being curled against him in recharge. She sighed, and began to shut down for recharge.

**Seekers VS Ninjas, Part 1; The Challenge **

Slipstream stared angrily at the security screen, pinkish-red optics practically burning with fire that would have sent the Chaos-Bringer himself running.

The Seeker that was on duty, a generic model that she honestly didn't know the name to, looked up at the unhappy Seeker femme. He had seen the scene on the screen, and immediately her.

For good reasons too.

Inside of the throne room, the Supreme Lord of the Decepticons and a newcomer, a femme cyber-ninja 'cycle, were discussing some things that the Seeker couldn't really give a slag about. At least, that's what they had _started _doing. Now they were talking like a pair of friends, drinking energon and oil.

Suddenly, Megatron leaned forward and grabbed the newcomer's chin. The ninja-femme's optics ridges flew upward as he leaned closer, seductively narrowed optics boring into her shocked-ones. He whispered something to her, and her optics dimmed.

Slipstream tensed, wingtips twitching. The other Seeker scooted away a little, optics flickering from the screen to the femme Seeker.

Megatron smirked at the ninja femme, before pulling away and leaning back on his throne. The femme blinked, optics dimmed in lust, before she ran like the Unicron incarnate was after her.

The femme Seeker clenched her denta, servos digging into her palms. She twisted on her heels, and stiffly walked out the door.

The Decepticons that were in the hall quickly moved out of her way; her energy-signal was practically screaming '_angry femme wants to claw your optics out and use them as target practice_'. No one was suicidal enough to get in _any_ angry femme's way.

She arrived at her and Megatron's shared quarters, and slammed the door (how she did this, since it was a sliding door, she didn't know, and didn't really care). She threw herself onto the large berth, bouncing slightly. Parts of her armor disengaged, sliding into subspace, and the coldness of the room brushed over her bare protoform. She grabbed the black silk thermal blankets, and pulled them over herself.

A few moments passed, before she sighed in aggravation and got up. She got off the berth, and walked towards her's and Megatron's private washracks quickly. She turned on the hot solvent, and just stood there for a few moments, letting the warm liquid run over her protoform.

"You're off shift early."

"Same could be said for you." She turned slightly to see Megatron in the doorway of the washracks, gazing at her with his intense red optics. He smirked slightly, walking inside the washracks, and grabbed a sponge and Slipstream's favorite cleanser from a shelf.

His armor slid back into its subspace pocket, and he ran his servos over her soft metallic skin. He grabbed the sponge, placed it under the water for a few seconds, and squeezed a dollop of the sweet smelling cleanser onto it.

She shivered when the sponge gently pressed against her wings, before he slowly washed her entire wing. He moved onto the next one after that, sending waves of pleasure down her spinal strut. She shivered slightly, wings twitching and pressing back against his large hands.

"Mmmm." She sighed happily as the tension built up in her back from the long earth day, before she looked at him from over her shoulder. She pulled away, before grabbing the sponge and cleanser.

She gently ran the sponge over his broad chest, gently brushing over the Deceptisignal burnt onto his metal skin. She ran the sponge over his arms, before looking back up at him.

He grabbed the sponge, threw it towards the shelves, before hauling her towards him. She let out a squeak when he smashed his lips against hers, but quickly threw her arms around his neck.

Megatron quickly deepened the kiss, carefully guiding her backwards towards the door. It opened, and she could feel his smirk as he guided her to the berth, still in '_make-out with femme_' mode.

'_This is perfect._' She thought, as he placed both arms on either side of her helm, pulling away slowly. He smirked down at her, red optics glittering as the lights dimmed around them.

'_No one can take this away from me._' She whimpered as he ran a large hand down her side.

Slipstream leaned up, grabbing his helm with her hands and pressing against his lips again. '_Megatron is __**mine.**_'

-------

Due to the fact I have this completely adorable story about Strika in my head, 'Deceptiqueen' will be extended to all Deceptifemmes. :3

Requests are love! Any Decepticon femme (even if she isn't in TFA, I'll fit them to the storyline, no f-ing OCs), any type of situation (no smut!), yada yada.

None of these drabbles happen this way in time. It's kinda… all over the place.

All characters (c) Hasbro  
Storyline, the 'Deceptiqueen' Universe (c) Medalis


	4. 4

The sky was dark, dotted with thousands and thousands of stars. Below was a sea of dark clouds, churning and twisting unendingly.

"_Fear is irrational. There is nothing to fear in this existence."_

"_You're not scared of falling?"_

Up on that snow-capped mountain was a tall slim figure, accented by a curvy figure and sharp wings. She looked down the sharp drop from the mountain to the stormy clouds, and gulped.

"_No. I have no reason to fear falling."_

"…"

Her optics paled, hands shaking. She gulped again, wings trembling.

"_What's it like? Falling, I mean._"

"_It's like flying, only… different._"

She took another step towards the edge, trying to shove the fear down.

"_What if you crashed?_"

"_Pull up at the last moment._"

Shoving the tempting desire to back away from the edge and fly home away, she jumped off the mountain.

_Oh Primus, oh Primus, oh Primus…! _

The wind rushed by, giving the allusion to flying, but she could see the mountain rushing by her in a vertical manner. She felt panicked, and attempted to shut that program down. It persisted, making warnings pop up in her optical screen, and her spark-shard lurched.

Panic overtook her, making her rush to online her flight programs. She paused, before exiting out of her flight programs.

'_I have to at least attempt this. If he can do it… I can too._'

Panic was an ever present force in her processor, waiting for her to lose it again and activate her flight program.

The cloud cover broke, revealing a beautiful mountain range. Sparkling white snow covered the dark blue and purple rocky peaks, reflecting the silver moonlight when it came out from behind the clouds. Snow swirled around her body, occasionally alighting on her warm body and melting into tiny little puddles.

Sometimes, it was easy to forget why she sort-of liked Earth. She loved the scenery on Earth – granted, all she had seen of Cybertron was in pictures or old war videos that, for some reason, Dirge had.

Upon realizing that a rather treacherous-looking mountain was quickly nearing, she snapped out of her daze and struggled to activate her flight program.

**

* * *

**

"Ave zyo dezided to zell Scalpel vhy zyo -" Doctor Scalpel, Megatron's Personal Surgeon, cut off when his med-bay opened. Cyclonus glanced over at the open door, optics flashing at the sight of a battered purple and teal Seeker.

"… vhat 'appened zhis zime?" the very small Decepticon sighed, pointing to the spare med-berth – aka, the one that wasn't taken by either Cyclonus or Spaceshot.

Slipstream limped over to the berth, sitting carefully down on the gel-foam-covered berth. The Doctor clambered over to her, spindly legs tapping against the metal tables and gel-foam.

"Vas Megastorm zoo 'ough for zyo?" the Doctor teased, pulling a large (_bigger than himself!_) roll of metal-mesh from his subspace.

"No." she snapped, blushing furiously. The Doctor cackled, wrapping the mesh around the damaged parts of her body. "I… crashed. Into a mountain. In the Himalayas."

"Vhat vere zoo doing zhere?" Scalpel lifted his spectacles in manner that was meant to be curious. She blushed, looking away, and muttered '_don't ask_'.

Cyclonus raised an optic ridge at the femme, and she glared at him. She mouthed '_don't you DARE say anything_' at him. He turned his head, and a tiny smile alighted on his faceplates.

She blinked in shock, gaping at him. A hand lifted, pointing at him. "You… you smiled. Holy shit, he smiled."

"Deed 'ee?" Scalpel turned around, claws scraping against a damaged plate on Slipstream's leg. She hissed, resisting the urge to smack him off her leg. Cyclonus' faceplate returned to its stoic appearance right before the Doctor turned around.

"'ang it. Meessed eet." The Doctor narrowed his optics, and returned to his work.

Cyclonus rose, and walked out the door. He ducked, avoiding a wrench, before walking fully out.

"Don't ever give me any stupid ideas anymore!" Slipstream snapped at him, glaring at his back.

* * *

_**AN:** Eh, random little drabble. _

_In other news:  
DeviantArt now has a Slipstream/Megatron group. I'm the admin/founder, so… join? Contribute art? :3  
Spaceshot is a real Decepticon. I found him by constantly pressing the 'random page' button while browsing the TFwiki. _

_Requests/Reviews are still love! If you want to see something particular, make sure to say something. Anonymous reviews are on._


	5. 5

AN: Long time no see, comrades! What's it been? Six months or so? Well, I do dearly apologize for the wait! Hopefully, this 7000+ chapter will sedate you fangirls and keep the pitchforks away.  
I started writing a few months ago – probably in February or something – and it's taken me quite a while to get this out. This was originally meant to be a present for contest winner Design-Time, but something happened and she disappeared from DA. I think it was because of someone going a little overboard because she used their picture as a reference.  
I can thank ever helpful muses Kogeto and Lady Slipstream for keeping me inspired – for Kogeto because of all her wonderful and hilarious Slipstream/Megatron artwork that inspired this chapter, and for Lady Slipstream because of her reviews and comments on both DA and here. Cycloprax-Tinj supplied some inspiration too – hopefully, she'll be appeased with all the Cyclonus in this chapter. Oh, and also, Kogeto has written a few (hilarious and amazing) Slipstream/Megatron fanfictions – go check them out!  
Anyway! With the release of the AllSpark Almanac II and upcoming TFA-centric Botcon, there's some canon fodder in here that might not make sense if you haven't read it, or looked at the TFwiki recently. The main one that you really need to know is that Cyclonus and Starscream a_re the same person,_ shocking as it might be, and Cyclonus hails from an alternate future where Megatron… well… Megatron wasn't _Megatron _anymore, if you get what I mean.  
_Disclaimer – _I own nothing other than this piece of fanfiction. No characters – dammit I hate OFCs – belong to me, nor does any of the crazy canon fodder featured or mentioned.

* * *

Cyclonus was… confused, suffice to say.

In his servo was a tray of oil and high grade – both of which were from Megatron's personal stores, having been requested by the (_current_) Decepticon warlord himself. Megatron had contacted him via comm. less than a cycle ago, and instructed him to bring the drinks directly to the throne room – naturally, Cyclonus had immediately obeyed.

It had taken him some time to get to Megatron's quarters – Oilslick had decided to stalk him and try, _yet again, _to interface with him – but he managed to avoid any major catastrophes. Oilslick having a painfully dented chestplate not counting as a 'catastrophe'.

Stopping at the door to the throne room, Cyclonus shifted the tray to his right hand, typing in the passcode with his left. The door slid open, allowing him admittance – once he walked in, the door shut behind him, hiding the bright florescent of the hallway and replacing them with the dim purple glow from the throne room's only source of light.

He turned, footsteps echoing in the room. Megatron, seated in his throne, looked up. The old gladiator was slumped in his throne in a manner that was decidedly tired and stressed – the warrior's helmet was hanging loosely from his hand, and the panels on his head were limp in a way that revealed just how tired the warrior was.

Cyclonus walked forward, placing the tray on a stand next to the throne, and poured a cube of high grade and oil for the old warrior. Megatron picked it up, without even casting him a look, and downed the entire cube in one gulp. The saboteur's face revealed nothing, but inwardly he raised an optic ridge.

As Megatron proceeded to down the next four cubes of mixed high grade and oil, Cyclonus took the time to momentarily disassociate and think about this situation. This certainly wasn't the first time he would be bearing the brunt of a drunk Megatron, but he couldn't help but wonder just _why _the old warrior was aiming to get drunk off his aft. He mentally ticked several possibilities off his mental list – Lugnut was in Medbay, and thus was unable to bother Megatron – but still got no closer to figuring out what the matter with the old warrior was.

He reconnected to reality, and focused on Megatron – the warlord was obviously 'buzzed', evidenced by the sparks flaring from his helm panels. The sight had a painful sense of familiarity.

"Forgive my forwardness, sir, but what brought this on?" Cyclonus poured another cube, stowing the empty bottle in his subspace to be disposed of later. Megatron's red eyes – brightened and saturated to more of a pink from overcharge – flickered to him, as the old warrior lifted his cube and slowly drank.

"Slipstream." The warrior grunted, a hand twirling in the air absently. "She's been avoiding me, and sleeping in the Seeker Quarters. Don't know what the matter is with her."

Cyclonus was silent, absently listening as Megatron rattled on about his mate – he had noticed Slipstream sitting in the Seeker's rec-room last time he was there, but she had seemed to be in a sullen mood, so he had avoided her. Admittingly, he was a bit of a… masochist, but he sure as Pit wasn't going to get in an angry femme's way.

"Hey…" Megatron suddenly looked up, a scheming smile on his faceplates. Cyclonus inwardly tensed, but outwardly showed no emotion. "You're a Seeker, aren't you?"

"Yes sir." He replied. Megatron paid little attention to that, standing up – of course, Cyclonus had to place a hand on the old warrior's shoulder to keep him upright.

"Why don't _you _go and figure what the Pit is wrong with her?" the warlord slurred, placing both hands on Cyclonus' shoulders, keeping himself upright. "Maybe have a Seeker-to-Seeker talk or something."

Because _yes, _he – 'Mr. Socially Inept' – was the _perfect _person to talk to Slipstream. He really did hate it when Megatron got drunk.

"… Sir, don't you think it would be wiser if you waited until you were sober, and went to her yourself? After all, she is _your _mate…"

Megatron looked at him like he was insane – which, admittingly, he probably was, but that was beside the point – and shook his head. The old warrior sat back down in his throne, and swirled the remaining energon in his cube.

"I care for my own life far too much for _that, _Cyclonus. She's been rather… what's the human's term for it?"

"Hormonal?"

"Yes, that. She's been rather hormonal as of late." The old warrior downed the rest of his glass, and dropped the cube on the stand next to his throne. Megatron gave Cyclonus a smile that the saboteur interpreted as slimy and drunk – again, he inwardly tensed, wingtips flicking.

"Consider it a command, Cyclonus. Go and find out what the matter with my mate is – and make it quick!"

* * *

Of course, Cyclonus completely disregarded Megatron's 'command'. He was a naturally - or unnaturally? After all, he was Starscream in a manner of speaking - loyal, yes, but not to Megatron.

Which was why he was hiding in his quarters, and hoping that Megatron would forgot all about tonight come morning.

"Cyclon_nnusssss!_"

Oh, and Slipstream was currently banging loudly on his door, yelling at him. He squirmed his way closer to the corner, trying to will her away. He clutched his Datapad closer, trying to focus on the image on the screen.

"_Cyclonnnussss! _You will _open this door, __**right now! **_Or, _I swear to Primus and all that is sacred, _I _will _shoot this door open and rip those audios off your thick head!"

He briefly considered opening the door for her – he was rather attached to his audios, in more ways than one. Well, that, and his Master liked them. For that reason, he stood, hiding the Datapad behind a retractable panel in the wall, and walked over to the door. His servo paused, before typing in the code to open the door.

The door slid open, revealing a _very _unhappy femme Seeker, with a Null Ray pointed at the door. She blinked, staring at him for a few seconds, before sauntering in without asking. The door slid closed behind her, and he turned to face the femme – she was standing in his rather barren quarters, looking around. She turned slightly, and pointed at his berth.

"I call that." And with that, she performed an aerial flip and landed gracefully on his large berth. She rolled onto her front, and looked up at him. "While you're standing there, will you get me a pillow, blanket, and some energon? It's cold in here, and I'm hungry."

Cyclonus could only stare, wings drooping in obvious confusion. She pouted again, and waved her hand.

"Are you deaf now, 'Cyc? Go and get me a pillow, blanket, and some energon! _Now!_" her voice raised to a decibel he was sure that he once could achieve, making his audios twitch in pain. He fled the room, grabbing some pillows and a blanket from the supply closet in the Seeker Rec-Room, and a few cubes of energon.

He walked back into his quarters, placing the pillows and blanket on the berth – Slipstream eagerly grabbed onto them, and curled up into the blanket like a Earth-feline. She also grabbed the cubes, and downed all three of them.

Again, he stared – then he sighed, and leaned against the wall. She smiled at him.

"Thanks for lending me your berth, 'Cyc. No one else would open their doors, and I didn't want to sleep on the couch again." She curled deeper into the blanket, and smiled at him again.

"Haven't you been sharing a berth with Lord Megatron?" He knew he probably sounded cold, but he was having a bad day. Not that any day in this hell-hole of a time period was wonderful.

Slipstream's apparently pleasant attitude turned sour – she scowled at him, red optics narrow. Her wings twitched in a manner that translated as 'upset'. "Megatron can frag off, for all I care."

"Did you have a fight?" he queried – however, he was certain that, if they had had a fight, he would have heard about it. Oilslick was very prone to telling him gossip – and groping his audios while he did so – but maybe they had kept it quiet.

"No." she spat, and buried her helm in the pillow. "Frag off and don't talk to me."

He was silent after that, simply staring at her for a few moments before pushing off the wall and walking over to the door. He looked back, before shutting off what little light he had in the room and leaving his quarters.

He spent that recharge-cycle in a chair in the Seeker Rec-Room.

* * *

Slipstream didn't have a very restful recharge.

She tossed and turned on the unfamiliar berth, which was far too cold and hard for her liking. She was used to a softer berth, and a large, very warm companion to be able to cuddle against. Part of her wished Cyclonus had stuck around – she could use someone to cuddle against, even if the saboteur was a bit on the chilly side, in both personality and temperature.

Seriously, she didn't get what his problem was. It was always '_yes sir/ma'm_', '_Chaos Bringer blah blah blah_', etc etc. What a fraggin' _weirdo. _

She rolled over once more, drawing her wings in close so as to not lay on them at an awkward angle. She curled into something of a ball, pulling the blanket over her – why in the Pit didn't Cyclonus have heating in this room? She'd have to knock some sense into him if she was going bunk in his quarters from now on.

With that, her spark-shard sunk – a painful throb reminded her of exactly _why _she was in Cyclonus' quarters instead of Megatron's. She raised a servo to her chest, curling it against her cockpit. She briefly considered opening her sparkplates, but decided not to – she didn't know how it would affect… _it. _

_It. _Is that what she was going to refer to it as? Just… _it_?

She curled into a fetal position – no mean feat, considering her body structure – and hugged her knees to her chest. Despite the unnatural position her spinal structure was in, it felt comforting to be like that – it meant nothing could get to _it. _Damn her maternal instincts.

She should go to Scalpel – the medicon might be able to tell her what to do. And maybe… get rid of it. Megatron – or rather, anyone wanting to incapacitate or otherwise harm him – just _could not _find out about… _it_. It was far too dangerous for _anyone _to find out.

She briefly considered confessing her… _problem_ to Cyclonus – it wouldn't have been the first time she told him something no one else knew about her. He rarely – if ever – judged her, simply listening with an ever-solemn expression. Not to mention that the saboteur was not the kind of person to blab to others – even if tortured by the Autobots, she was certain that he would stare emptily at his tormentors, as always.

On the other hand, she didn't fully trust him – no one did. Cyclonus was far too reclusive and far too nihilistic to be completely sane, much less trustworthy.

She sighed again, pressing her faceplates against the pillow. Her shift started in several megacycles, and she needed recharge… and to think things over in the morning, when she wasn't so tired.

* * *

'Morning' – by Earth's measurements, as Earth cycled much faster around its star than Cybertron did apparently – came far too soon for Slipstream's liking. She curled into her pillow, trying to will away the alarm in her processor that alerted her to her shift.

"Dammit." While most Decepticons still preferred Cybertronian curses, the English language had a particular crudeness that Slipstream liked. Besides, it often left those who didn't understand English – often Decepticon grunts who hadn't taken the time to download the language from the human's web – wondering what she just said.

Her optic screens lit up, several flecks of static racing through her line of vision. A little error message popped up in her HUD, warning her she needed to refuel. Groaning, the femme Seeker rolled into a sitting position, rubbing at her optics in a manner reminiscent of the humans.

She stood, momentarily confused by her surroundings, before shrugging it off and opening the door to the Seeker Rec Room. Several other Seekers were roaming the rec-room, even at this time. She noticed Cyclonus passed out in a chair, with a pink bow wrapped around his bunny ear – e_rm, _audial. Right. Audial.

She smirked, and walked over to the dispenser, getting her allotted share of energon. A moment passed before she looked around – no one was watching – and grabbed another two cubes. Greedy? Maybe a little. But she was _hungry! _

She gulped down those two cubes, and checked her chronometer – she still had half a megacycle until her shift. She cast a look at the still unconscious Cyclonus – by now, he had a bright pink heart painted over his Decepticon insignia, courtesy of Skyquake and Hellbat – and then looked over at the aforementioned Air Raiders.

"Boys, boys…" she shook her head, stalking into Starscream's quarters for a second, before walking out with a large pink wig. She grinned at the two snickering Air Raiders, and jerked her head in Cyclonus' direction. "Here, let me show you how a _femme _does it."

* * *

It had been difficult to get the wig molded around Cyclonus' strange helmet, but the result was bound to keep Slipstream amused through her monitor shift. Not to mention all the texted 'LOL's she was receiving from the others who had seen the image. The human 'IM' system really did have its perks sometimes.

She leaned back in her chair, absently flicking from screen to screen. Many Decepticons were starting to go about their duties – from patrol, to training, to guarding, to… whatever else there was. She personally didn't care about exactly what they were doing.

Bored, she looked around the throne room. Soundwave was seated at the communications center, servos tapping quickly on the keyboard. At first glance, he was working diligently – but upon zooming in on his screen, she noticed that he seemed to be on some Earth website called 'Fan Fiction Dot Net'. _Weirdo. _

Other than Soundwave and herself, there was no one in the room. She knew that, soon, a few more Decepticons would wander in here, mainly for monitor duty or cleaning duty. But that wouldn't be for a megacycle or so. She sighed, and quietly pulled a Datapad containing a few Cybertronian and human games out of her subspace.

After some time – she wasn't paying attention, engrossed in a game of what the humans called 'Frogger' as she was – the door to the Throne Room slid open. She quickly hid her game in her subspace, and Soundwave probably exited out of the website he was looking at. After a quick glance at her internal chronometer, she noted that it was a few dozen cycles early for anyone else to be arriving for a monitor shift or cleaning duty.

Megatron entered the room, pedefalls loud and hard. The warlord – who usually stood tall, shoulders squared and back straight – was not his usual militant self. His back was hunched, shoulders down, and a servo was partially covering his optics. He stumbled over to his throne, flopping ungracefully onto the large chair. He let out a loud, very noticeable groan, head _thunking _back against his throne.

Slipstream hunched her own shoulders, wings drooping. She hoped that whatever was wrong with her mate would make it so he didn't notice her. She really wished she wasn't on monitor duty – she wasn't quite ready to face her mate yet about… _it. _

Much to her chagrin, she felt Megatron's ever piercing gaze on her wingstruts. There was a slight creaking of metal, coupled with what sounded like metal scraping against rock. She turned slightly, finding Megatron leaning on his servo, often dark blood-red optics instead a softer red color. He stared at her with a look of what she could only identify as _longing_.

_He misses me. _She realized, after a moment. She looked away again, flipping through the screens again, trying to take her mind off her mate's obvious misery. _I've only been gone two recharge cycles, and he misses me. _

Megatron could certainly surprise her, that's for sure. He was a wonderful mate – although, she didn't have anything to compare him to. He took care of her – he brought her energon, doted on her, let her cuddle with Ravage in their berth even though he obviously hated it… he seemed rather fond of her massages, which she gladly administered to him. Their relationship was unlike the ones she read about in sappy human love stories – although, he did love calling her mate '_Fabio'_, if only because it pissed him off – but some of the things he did for her were certainly romantic. Such as bringing her the closest thing to a Cybertronian flower and giving Ravage to her, even if that was only to weasel back into her good graces after he had some sort of affair with another femme.

She sighed quietly, casting another glance over her shoulder at her mate. He was still watching her, optics dimmed in a surprisingly gentle manner. She momentarily locked optics with him, but just as quickly looked away.

_I wanna be here eternally…  
Kono mama mitsume aetteitai.  
I can feel you close to me…  
Itsumademo sobani wa irarenai.  
Kono shunkan dake wa zutto eien ni..._

She quickly shifted her gaze to Soundwave, who was playing a sappy Earth song on his speakers. He quailed under the gazes of both the femme Seeker and the Decepticon warlord, shutting his speakers off.

"Apologies. Soundwave: thought music might soothe tense atmosphere." The Scion's ever monotone voice was oddly quiet, possibly to convey submissiveness. "Soundwave: was uncomfortable. Soundwave: should probably shut up and leave the room."

"Then do so." Megatron finally spoke up, the softness in his optics gone, leaving a coldness that she usually attributed to Shockwave. Soundwave quickly obeyed, transforming smoothly and driving quickly out of the throne room.

A few tense moments passed before Megatron turned his gaze back to her, and stood. He walked over to where she was sitting, optics narrowed and bright. She squared her shoulders, rising to her pedes. She looked up at him, fists clenching at her sides and wings flared out. It was a common gesture to make a Seeker look intimidating – she knew it freaked out most Autobots, but Megatron…? She doubted it would have any affect.

As she predicted, Megatron was not put off by the display – instead, he reached out, the tips of his servos dragging down the edge of her wings, gaining a shiver in response. Apparently emboldened by this response, he smiled, and gripped the tip of her wing, leaning in close. Slipstream – growing both worried and rather warm – turned away, aiming to leave the room as fast as she could.

Megatron grabbed her hip, a servo curling around her helm to turn her faceplates towards his. She felt her rebellious chassis grow warm, her growing arousal becoming noticeable when her cooling fans kicked on.

"Silly femme." Megatron chided, gently stroking her helmet vents. "Always biting off more than you can chew, as the humans would say…"

He chuckled, pressing their forehelms together and gently brushing his mouth against her's. She pressed back, letting out a soft purr in response to the petting of her helm vents. There was something chaste about the way Megatron was treating her – it wasn't as if they didn't have their sappily romantic moments, but the warlord wasn't a terribly romantic person. He was better at '_find, seduce, kill_' than '_find, seduce, get bonded_'.

Her spark-shard throbbed at the thought of bonding with Megatron – she pulled away from him, looking away. She suddenly felt nauseous. The warlord looked at her, head tilted slightly. He then sighed, and affixed her with a steely gaze.

"What have I done, femme, to make you so keen on avoiding me?" he asked, vocals lowered – she knew it was an attempt to either calm her or seduce her back into his arms. Seekers were very susceptible to changes in volume. "I haven't touched another since that little… _ahem_, incident with Nightbird. Am I lacking in interface?"

"No…" she shifted on her pedes, arms crossed over her cockpit. She felt… _it _shift against her spark-shard, and her nausea worsened. "It's… it's not you. I'm just… having issues."

She heard him step closer, and a pair of servos were placed on her hips. She momentarily glanced at the dark, almost pitch black, gray servos on her hips, then at the pale faceplates that was very close to her's.

"Care to share your troubles?" his voice was little more than a rumble against her helmet vents. She pulled away from him again – and this time, she didn't stop. She took a few steps, transformed, and jetted away down the hallway towards the Seeker quarters. Megatron, as far as she was aware, was still standing there, staring at where she was.

Upon coming to the entrance to the Seeker Rec-Room, she transformed back to bipedal and made quick haste to the washracks. She found the nearest waste canister, and proceeded to output what was in her fuel tank into the canister.

She wasn't sure how long she just sat there, head hanging over the waste canister, occasionally heaving until there was nothing left in her fuel tanks. At some point, she found Skywarp sitting next to her, rubbing her back comfortingly. With nothing left to do, she leaned against her youngest sibling, and cried.

* * *

Some days in this Pit hole of a timeline were worse than others. In all honestly, every day was rather horrid – he missed his Master _so much!_ – but _today_… this solar cycle took the _freaking cake. _

First off, he woke up to most of the Seeker division _laughing_ at him. Someone had the idea of _not only_ tying a ribbon on his audial, but painting over his Deceptisignia and putting that _damned pink wig _on him. Because it took some time to get the paint off his chassis, he was late to his patrol, and on the way there Slipstream almost ran him over with her reckless flying. _Then _he found out that his partner for today's patrol was _Oilslick_ of all people, so he had to deal with the constant groping of his audios and loss of personal space for _six fragging megacycles. _ Oh, and the pleasantries didn't stop there! At some point during their patrol, some humans they came across in the forest called him a '_bunny_'! He was certain he was going to be picking human innards and bones out of his pede for megacycles… not to mention, on the way back to Kaon, Oilslick kept crawling on him and groping his audios! Did the chemist know nothing of '_personal space_'?

He walked into the Seeker Rec-Room, barely keeping himself from shooting at the Seekers sitting in the room. He made his way to the energon dispenser, aiming to get his ration and head back to his quarters to try and… stabilize his systems, or as much as he could without his Master.

He felt dozens of optics on the back of his wings and cockpit – obviously, no one had forgotten the little incident earlier. He let a grimaced frown show on his faceplates, and flicked his wings in a manner that would convey his displeasure. A few looked away, but most kept their gazes on him, whispering quietly among themselves. He grabbed his energon ration, and made his way back to his quarters through the crowded room.

"Hey Bunny Bot! Where'd your wig go?" he froze, wings hiking up and alert. A gray Seeker gave him a nasty smile, waving a Datapad with his picture – when he was recharging, _damned_ wig and all - on it. "I mean, you pulled it off _so_ well…"

His fists clenched, audios lying flat – _no one_, excluding his Master, called him _'Bunny Bot'. __**No. **__**One**__. _

"Perhaps…" he let his vocalizer switch back over to Starscream's, turning his head towards the Seeker with a sharp, insane grin. "I wonder… will you be able to pull off 'wingless' as well?"

Before the Seeker could so much as tense, his Bleedblack swords were pulled from the subspace sheaths at his hips and had begun to tear through the idiotic Seeker's wings. By the time the Seeker had opened his mouth to scream, his swords had already cleaved both wings off. The wings fell to the ground with a dull _clunk_, energon dripping from the wounds with resounding _plops. _

He rose from his stance, forcing his anger back under control, and looked around the room. Everyone had taken a few steps back, optics wide and wings trembling. Calmly, he made his way back over to his quarters, picking up his dropped energon cube, and locking the door to his quarters. He sighed, but smirked at the sudden screaming that came from outside the door.

Perhaps this was why his Master preferred to be feared, instead of respected.

He placed his energon on the metal surface of his berth, walking over to the wall and typing a code in – a panel opened in the wall, revealing a stack of Datapads. He pulled the top Datapad off the stack, momentarily checking its contents, before walking back over to his berth and sitting down. He remained like that for what could have been megacycles - flipping through a mired of pictures, speeches, videos… He sighed again, and lifted the Datapad, rubbing his cheek against the cool glass – he imagined it was instead chilly, lifeless metal, framed by sharp purple armor…

"Cyclo_nnnuuusssssss!_"

Not_ again. _

* * *

"Thanks for letting me borrow your berth again, Cyclonus." Slipstream cast a smile up at Cyclonus, curling into the pillows and blanket he left for her. In a parody of yesterday, Cyclonus was leaning against the wall, arms crossed and giving her a rather sour look, but he said nothing in response.

Silence – she shifted on the berth, sitting up, and cast the other Seeker a glance. He watched her with dark optics, ever-gloomy aura not dissipating in the least. Physically, at least, Cyclonus was very much just as handsome as Megatron – tall, dark, and handsome, as the humans might say. His choice of swords – instead of the customary gun or cannon – as his weapons was intriguing, considering Seekers worked best with Null Rays.

She would be lying if she said he wasn't interested in Cyclonus. Of course, Megatron was her first, and had introduced to her the art of 'looking at others in a romantic light' – Cyclonus would likely never be as romantically inclined as Megatron, and wouldn't probably dote on her like the warlord did, but one could never tell. Not that she was planning on abandoning her relationship with Megatron any time soon – but… she was allowed to look, right?

He pushed off the wall, probably aiming to head back out to the Seeker Rec-Room and recharge in a chair again – but she stood, placing a hand on his lower arm.

"Wait…" she started, curling her servo around his wrist.

"Yes?" He paused, looking at her blankly. She tensed, momentarily worried – in that same way she had been the first time she was alone in a room with Megatron, all those orbital cycles ago – before she steeled herself and tugged on his wrist, guiding him back to the berth.

"You don't have to leave…" she paused again, before pushing him gently onto the berth. He sat down on the metal surface, staring at her in that blank manner of his. "It's not like you haven't had to share a berth with someone else before, right?"

He paused, optics momentarily fogging over, before he gave her another sour look. She took that as a 'yes', and curled up against him – she felt her faceplates heat up, no doubt turning a deep pink color. The saboteur seemed rather stiff as she leaned against him further - she knew she was pressing the line between 'leaning' and 'cuddling', but… certainly he didn't mind? She glanced up at him, before quickly deciding.

Slipstream shifted, so that she was on her knees, and leaned up, curling her arms around Cyclonus' neck, brushing her lips against one of his silly-looking audials. The reaction was immediate – Cyclonus froze, wings and audials jerking upwards.

"Don't you have a mate already?" his voice was quiet, almost a hiss.

She sighed, running a free hand over the saboteur's audial. He shivered in response. "Yes, but… I just can't face him right now. In both senses of the word."

His mouth twisted into a grimace, dark optics glaring at her. "I'm just an outlet for your desires." He didn't phrase it as a question.

She gave him a look, and sighed, mouth still pressed against his audial. It fluttered in response, much like Ravage's would if she blew over it. "No, but… do you want to be? I don't mind, I just… feel lonely."

Suddenly, she was pressed against the opposite wall, a dark figure looming over her. She felt her spark-shard quail at the loss of control, and… _it _shifted against her spark-shard, obviously worried. Cyclonus loomed over her, dark armor blocking what little light there was. His optics flared, illuminating his dark faceplates with an eerie red light.

"Do not…" he started, once chillingly deep timbre now strangely similar to Starscream's high pitched screech. "… Touch what does not belong to you, femme."

His hands clamped around her wrists, pressing her against the wall enough to hurt. Another burst of panic ran through her, and – running on basic programming – a few pieces of armor that would normally protect her delicate wing joints on her back slid forward to cover her cockpit. Cyclonus paused, again, and stared at her chest.

"You're carrying."

Again, it was not a question, but a statement. His grip loosened, and his optics returned to their normal dark color. He took a step back, seemingly regaining control over whatever had momentarily made him go out of control. She slumped slightly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Is it Megatron's?"

"_Duh_." She snapped, glaring at him. "If you tell anyone about this, I swear…"

He was silent, staring at her with a somber expression. She walked by him, and sat down on the berth, arms still crossed over her chest protectively. He continued to stand, optics following her to the berth.

"I… I don't even know how it happened. I've never opened my chestplates, and neither has he. It's just, one day, I… I saw it in the mirror." She trembled softly, optics wide. "I thought it was a parasite or something, so I borrowed one of Scalpel's books, and… it said I was _carrying _a sparkling."

"I don't want it. I don't think I can even _have _it – what would happen if the Autobots caught wind of it? Or Starscream? And I doubt that Megatron wants a sparkling, either…" she looked down, frowning. "Pit, I didn't even _know _we could reproduce without the AllSpark. What if it's my shard that gives me this ability? I might be put on 'Breeder Duty' or something!"

"It's completely natural for most Cybertronians." She looked up, optics wide. Cyclonus shifted on his pedes, sitting down next to her. "Your AllSpark shard, likely, just makes you more fertile."

Then, quietly, he added "Consider yourself lucky that you can carry."

She stared, blinking her optics, and sighed again. Her wingtips flicked against his – a normal ground mech might see the gesture as romantic, but it was merely a mannerism between Trine members, one that usually conveyed a desire to be helped. He looked at her, and his lips twitched upward in the tiniest of smiles.

* * *

_Sometime later…_

Slipstream shifted, slowly blinking her optics and looking around. She was still in Cyclonus' quarters, having obviously passed out at some point. Someone – likely Cyclonus – had pulled the blankets over her, and left a few energon cubes on the table next to the berth. Lying next to one of the cubes was a Datapad. She sat up somewhat, and downed the cubes, turning on the Datapad.

'_You need to tell him.'_ Was the only thing written on the pad – there was no signature, but she knew it was Cyclonus who had left it. She sighed, and sat fully up, staring at the pad.

She'd been staying in Cyclonus' quarters for an orbital cycle or so – she hadn't pulled up the courage to tell Megatron that she had sparked, and Cyclonus had been willing to share quarters with her until then. Although, he had never shared a berth with her – and after his rather frightening display, she wasn't willing to press him on the issue.

She sighed again, and got off the bed, aiming to head to the washracks and then go and talk to Strika. Strika had apparently carried a few sparks over her time, and Cyclonus had suggested that she should go and talk to the femme commander.

Perhaps luckily or not, the saboteur knew enough about carrying to let her know that she needed to both tell Megatron that she was bearing, and to talk to Strika because she was apparently going to 'go into the second stage soon'. Whatever that meant. And really, why did he know so much about carrying in the first place?

She made her way out of Cyclonus' quarters, heading directly to the washracks. She passed a few Seekers, who affixed her with curious gazes. She gave them sour looks in response, making them look away. She sauntered into the washracks, and paused in front of a mirror.

Oh. So _that's _why those Seekers were staring at her.

She turned slightly, and poked her enlarged cockpit. It wasn't a huge size difference, but certainly a bit noticeable. She couldn't walk around like _this_! People would be staring at her! She sighed, and walked into one of the stalls. She let the water and solvent run over her for a while, before drying herself off and heading back out into the Rec-Room – if she was correct, Cyclonus had a cloak or poncho or something she could… ahem, _borrow_…

Moments later, she walked out of Cyclonus' quarters again, donning a black poncho that covered her chest just fine. It clashed with her paintjob, but it should keep people from staring at her chassis and possibly figure out her condition. Note to self – save up credits to buy a cloak or poncho from Swindle. Most Cybertronians didn't like the cold, despite their ability to transverse space – she was no different.

She sauntered out of the Seeker Rec Room, fixing the poncho so it wouldn't part to reveal her chest. A few patrolling grunts glanced at her, but she ignored them and made her way down the hall. Sometime later, after getting lost several times and accidently coming upon what she would describe as a 'wild party', she finally came upon Strika and Lugnut's shared quarters.

She paused, briefly wondering if she should have called ahead, before knocking on the metal door. A few moments later, a tired-looking Lugnut – with metal-mesh bandages around his midsection – opened the door, glaring at her.

"Is Strika here?" she asked, taking a small step backward. Angry femmes were among some of the most terrifying creatures out there, but angry Carrier planes could be just as bad sometimes. Lugnut would never hurt her – after all, she _was _Megatron's mate – but he could certainly still throttle her a little.

"She's in a meeting with his Lordship." Lugnut grunted, looking down at her, before quickly closing the door. She stared at the door, blinking her optics in a rather human manner, before pouting and turning on her heel.

Strika was probably in the Throne Room, if she was with Megatron. She debated going to the Throne Room to get her – that meant interacting with Megatron, which she wasn't particularly fond on doing that just yet. Considering she had run out on him last time she had seen him, she was sure he wasn't too happy with her. Then again, one could never tell with the Decepticon Warlord.

And she hadn't made it this far in life – which, in comparison to most Cybertronians, was not very far – by hiding because she didn't want to face someone! In both senses of the term.

She a haughty spring in her step, she sauntered down the hallway, ignoring all the pointed stares from a variety of mechs. She stopped at the Throne Room door, staring up at the large door – it had been made large enough that even giants like Lugnut and Blackout could walk through with ease – and paused, a hand over the keypad, before she typed the code in.

She waltzed in, and placed her hands on her hips in a familiar cocky stance. The room quieted, and both Team Chaar and Megatron looked at her. She kept her optics off Megatron, and sauntered forward, towards Strika.

"Do you have a moment?"

Strika stared – if she had any ability to move her face, Slipstream was sure that she would have raised an optic ridge.

"I'm in the middle of something - _obviously_. Why?" Strika sounded vaguely annoyed. She took a moment to decode what the other femme had said – Strika had a very thick accent, likely originating from wherever she had been sparked, and it sometimes made it impossible to understand what she had said.

"I'm curious about that myself." Megatron spoke up, leaning forward on his throne, optics focused on her. He had lowered his vocals to a teasing purr, and she tried not to shudder – _damn you, you_ _sexy mech. Damn you. _

"And curiosity killed the cat – keep your nose out of other bots' business, Megsy." She snapped at him, before turning back to Strika.

"Your business is my business, dear – after all, you are my mate. Or, you were, last time I checked." Megatron drawled on, rising from his throne. She turned back to him, fists clenching at her sides. Strika and her cohorts took a few steps back – unlike Cyclonus, who had stepped out of his leader's shadow, a hand landing on his sword, probably ready to halt any possible fights.

"Says the mech who constantly has affairs with others!" she snapped again – stupid hormones, must be affecting her mood…

"Are you in another one of your _snits_ again, dear?" he walked up to her, towering over her. He crossed his arms, the canon mounted on his lower-arm resting over his large chassis. She tried not to oogle her mate too much, or bite her lip – but _Primus _it had been so long and he looked absolutely _stunning_…

"Snit? What snit? I don't have _snits!_" she poked his chest, glaring up at him. "Besides, you're the one who has crazy mood swings."

Megatron narrowed his optics, leaning down to look her optic-to-optic. "Of _course _you have snits, dear. You're a rather moody femme – perhaps moreso than your idiot of a creator."

"I am _not moody!_" she heard her vocals hit a high octave, one that made Megatron flinch slightly. "I am perfectly fine! _You're _the moody one!"

He sighed, rubbing his forehelm, before affixing her with a long-suffering stare. "You're having a snit, dear."

She wordlessly snarled, shoulders hunching in an obviously aggravated stance – sure, she could be moody, but she wasn't moody _all _the time… Oversized glitch!

"Whatever had gotten you so riled up, dear?" she noticed his optics trailing down her form, pausing at the black poncho. He narrowed his optics slightly. "And whyever are you wearing _that?_"

"What has gotten me riled up?" she repeated, optic twitching. Her servos flew up, smacking against Megatron's faceplates in what the humans would call a '_bitch slap_', vocals rising to a hysterical screech. "You! You've gotten me 'riled' up! You fragging _knocked me up!_"

Everything went silent. Slipstream panted slightly, stupidly realizing that she had just admitted her little… _problem _to her mate. Megatron stared, cheek scuffed from her slapping him, but he seemed to ignore it. Even Team Chaar stared with wide optics, jaws hanging open rather comically.

Moments later, Megatron shook off his shock, and stared at her with a distinctly annoyed gaze. He swept her off her feet, pulling her into his arms in a 'hero's carry', and cast a glare at Team Chaar.

"All of you are dismissed!" he snapped, and seconds later, Team Chaar was out the door. No one wanted to mess with a pissed-off Megatron – not even Cyclonus, who paused to look back at the couple with what might have been a mildly worried glance, before leaving the room with his team-mates.

Megatron dragged her into his quarters, which were located behind a secret door near his throne. He nearly tossed her onto his large berth, momentarily stunning her. The door shut and locked, and Megatron was standing over her, annoyed expression clearly showing.

"You're _carrying _and you never thought to _tell _me?" he reached down, tugging her poncho off. Her slightly-swollen cockpit was revealed, and he stared. A hand – shaking, she noticed – gently traced the seam where false glass met metal.

"Why didn't you tell me?" his vocals were soft, and she noticed that his annoyance had apparently faded to a worry that she didn't know how to handle. She looked away, trying to focus on _anything _other than the utterly pitiful gaze her mate was affixing her with.

"I didn't know how you would react – besides, I'm not even sure if I want it." She replied, sitting up. Megatron sat down next to her, pulling her into his lap.

"But don't you see?" he murmured, against her helm vents. "A protoform would be a wondrous thing to have among the ranks. Nothing makes soldiers happier – be them Autobot or Decepticon – than a protoform gnawing on their pedes. And besides… I need an heir, correct?"

She was silent, letting him gently run a hand along her back. Her spark-shard throbbed a tiny bit – she felt the tiny sparkling that might someday grow into a little protoform shift against her spark-shard. He sighed against her helm-vents, and curled his arms around her.

They simply sat there, curled up against each other, saying nothing. Slipstream curled against her mate, tucking her helm under his neck, listening to his intakes.

He was surprisingly gentle with her – in Kaon, they said, interfacing bled into fighting, making one highly violent even when it wasn't meant. She knew he must be desperately trying not to hurt her in any way, if the too-gentle caresses and softness in their many kisses was anything to go by. She fell into recharge curled up against him, warm and content, feeling better than she had in weeks. The little sparkling seemed content too, seeming to nuzzle against her spark-shard.

As sappy as it was, Slipstream actually felt very content. Maybe some of those stupid romance novels were right.

* * *

"What would you like to name it?"

The question was out of the blue, breaking the silence. Slipstream looked up from the magazine she was reading – _Venus_, a transdimentional magazine that Strika had loaned her – and stared at her mate. Megatron was seated at a desk, going through several Datapads.

"What?" She set her magazine down in her lap, momentarily smoothing down her purple and teal poncho. She felt the little sparkling shift against her spark again – it had been doing that more and more lately.

"I asked you what you want to name the sparkling." Megatron didn't look up from his Datapads, stylus scribbling something down before moving onto the next pane of glass. She blinked, before quirking her lips in something of a confused pout.

"Shouldn't we wait to see if it's a mech or a femme?"

"Does it matter?" he replied, momentarily glancing at her, before returning his gaze to his work. "We're not as gender-orientated, when it comes to names, as humans are."

"I don't think I want to name a femme sparkling 'Drag Strip' – or some other mechy name." she sighed, rolling her optics at her mate. She really did not get Cybertronian customs and culture sometimes!

"I happen to know a femme named Drag Strip, dear." Megatron drawled, setting another signed Datapad aside and moving to the next. "She's an acrobat and swordswoman. You would get along with her."

"Besides, I doubt we need to worry about looking for a feminine name, dear. Cybertronian sparked femmes are incredibly rare – most femmes are born from the AllSpark, or are from Gobotron. There is a much higher chance you'll have a mech, or an ambiguous." Her mate continued, signing off _yet another _Datapad and moving onto the next. How many of those did he have to sign?

"Whatever." Slipstream grumbled, rolling her optics again. "You're the one who suggested the idea – what bright ideas do _you _have, Megsy?"

He gave her a sly little smile – a knowing smile, perhaps. "Galvatron is a rather suiting name for the heir to the Decepticon leadership, don't you think?"

She had to agree with him – Galvatronwas a rather simple name, one that had a sound of power around it, just as Megatron's did. And yet, at the same time, she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that came bundled with that name.

_Geez_, she could be far too paranoid for her own good sometimes. Because really, what could go wrong?

* * *

AN: _Ho-boy_.  
I apologize for the lame ending, but I had to rewrite it several times before I got something I was even relatively pleased with. I needed to get this fiction done before Sakura-Con, and I was worried that the first ending I chose was going to take too long to write. Simple isn't always better, but it's a hell of a lot easier.  
The song featured by Soundwave is _Eternally _by Utada Hikaru. It's one hell of a sappy song, which is why it's being used.


End file.
